


can't you see what you've done?

by highwaytune



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (kinda), Confrontations, Gossip, I implied it but ig you could read it platonically?, It's midnight and I hate tagging, Kobra doesn't have good luck with love at ALL, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Other, Party Poison is mentioned, Past Relationship(s), There's also kobracola sort of mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25684060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highwaytune/pseuds/highwaytune
Summary: Kobra goes for a ride to unwind and meets an old friend. Triple Encore makes an appearance.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	can't you see what you've done?

**Author's Note:**

> The title references Greta Van Fleet's "Talk On The Street", which I knew was a Kobra-fic-title song when I connected the dots for the very first time. This one's been in the drafts for a few weeks, and it's unedited, so be wary. Kobra runs into an ex who wasn't the kindest, and there are some gaslight-y moments so if that makes you uncomfortable, please click out!

Kobra doesn’t notice that anyone is trying to get his attention until a neon-jacketed killjoy casts a shadow in his headlight and he’s nearly running them over. The crash queen skids to a stop, pulling his helmet off of his head, shaking his hair out, and huffing all in one clean motion. 

“Can I help you?” Kobra asks, impatience rising in his voice as he flips the kickstand to his bike down. (He’s hoping this conversation won’t last long enough to have needed to do this, but just in case.)

“Sure can,” the voice drawls, a smile spreading across the owner’s face. “Haven’t seen you out this far in a hot second, sweetheart.”

“Just going for a drive, is all.” Kobra’s voice is cool, unwavering. He lets the words roll off of him like the rain runs down his leather jacket, trying not to let them set into him. His voice doesn’t even show a hint of  _ dialect _ \-- all of his syllables are there. (This is the point at which Kobra realizes he can’t hear very well, and he takes a second to shut his bike off.)

“Awful late for a drive,” the other killjoy purrs, watching Kobra dismount his bike and stand next to it. “Nah, tell me: what’s somebody like you out here for? ‘Nother fight with your brother?”

Kobra feels his jaw set tight at the mention. “No, Encore. Am I not allowed to just drive for the sake of driving?”

Encore raises her hands in surrender, walking closer to Kobra. “Just askin’. No need to get hot so fast, honey.”

Kobra’s trapped -- he feels the panic bubble up behind his eyes. Without the steady hum of his engine, there’s nothing constant to keep him from snapping or bubbling over. “What do you want?”

“Aw,” Encore traces a finger around Kobra’s face, making him recoil. “I dunno. You were pretty great all over, ‘fore I left you in the dust. You were so great at-”

“ _ Stop _ ,” Kobra says suddenly, face flushed red-hot. “I’m going home.”

“Did it really cut that deep, KK?” Encore’s gaze softens, and Kobra feels himself relax a little. 

Part of his brain is  _ screaming,  _ “ _ Kobra, please go home. Please go home. Cherri is waiting for you. Please go home, please get out of here, _ ” but of course, Kobra doesn’t have much of a mind to listen to it.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Encore says finally, dark eyelashes sweeping against her cheeks as she reaches up to wrap her arms around Kobra’s neck. He stiffens at first, then unwinds again.

“‘S fine,” Kobra exhales, breath shuddering. “But really, I need to--”

“No, you don’t,” Encore interrupts, ghosting her lips across Kobra’s leather-wrapped knuckles. “You could come back to my place and we could-”

“Seriously, I-” Kobra pauses, trying to clear his head. “I gotta get home soon. My brother’s waiting for me and-”  
  
“You  _ hate _ your brother.” The way Encore says this makes Kobra’s skin  _ crawl _ . It’s stated like a fact, and Kobra knows once more why he hates  _ this _ \-- all of this.   


“I don’t hate my brother. We argue, sure, but I don’t  _ hate _ him. I have to leave.” With that, the crash queen untangles himself and remounts his bike. 

“How come? Gotta get back to selling yourself out all over?” Encore’s words are spat like acid, and Kobra recoils again.   
  
“Go to hell, Encore.”  
  
“My pleasure.” Triple Encore stalks off, leaving Kobra breathing heavily as he shoves his helmet back on and burns rubber in the general direction of the diner. _So long and goodnight_ , Kobra thinks numbly as he focuses his eyes ahead on the road. If he's lucky, he'll make it back home before the sun's up.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this wasn't too incomprehensible. Wisdom for the night? Listen to Talk On The Street and let me know what you thought (of the fic or the song -- I will gladly GVF brainrot) over on cherrikisser on Tumblr. Thanks for reading!


End file.
